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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385295">Lemonade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl'>masongirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The best laid plans [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Band of Brothers (TV 2001)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barbecue, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gardens &amp; Gardening, Husbands, Kissing, M/M, Marriage, POV Toye, Prosthesis, Rings, Spring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe and George have a barbecue at their new place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, George Luz/Joseph Toye, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The best laid plans [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lemonade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A short little scene set two years after <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319544">The Best Laid Plans</a>. I recommend reading that first. Joe and George are married now and have moved into a suburban house with a garden.</p><p>For <a href="https://speirtons.tumblr.com/">Lily's</a> writing challenge #bobtogether, prompt 4: "How did you talk me into this?" Thank you for coming up with the idea, Lily! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Joe's palms ache. The sun is high up in the clear blue sky, burning his cheeks pink, and the garden is abuzz with dazed little bugs coming back to life. Sweat beads on his forehead. He smells the blooming lilac far behind his back, where a long table is set up with no food to serve yet because George has been too busy holding three conversations at once to start the barbecue on time. The gentle spring breeze strokes Joe's neck with its cold fingers. Sprouts of fresh green foliage color the bushes, and every songbird in the neighborhood chirps for its mate. The world is loud and busy. As Joe bends down and his shovel's harsh, dry handle scrapes his skin again, he decides he's had enough of the current music blaring from George's speaker.</p><p>"George, skip that trash!" He yells across the garden as he dumps sand into his wheelbarrow. His ring finger itches without the familiar weight around it and it annoys him. Some of their guests laugh about his temper, but George just rolls his eyes at the grill and pokes the meat as if that could roast it faster. He's in his <em>"hot stuff cooking" </em>apron, cargo shorts and Joe's rubber sandals.</p><p>"You like this song, Joe!" He calls back without looking up. A lock of his floppy hair curls over his forehead.</p><p>"Do I?" Joe grumbles, digging another shovelful of warm soil out of the hole he's completed so far. He doesn't always recognize songs from their first notes and there's too much damn noise anyway - but a few seconds later, his memory finally kicks in, and he bobs his head to the rhythm. "Oh, yeah. It has a good beat!"</p><p>He doesn't look away from his work again, but George's laugh stands out from the indistinctive chatter of their friends like the toll of a silver bell.</p><p> </p><p>They are planting trees in the backyard. Not because of a sudden need for homegrown apples or a new source of shade, but because George's mom complained about how bare the plain grass looked, and Joe fears that woman although he'd never admit it. He doesn't know why, but he has the same drive to please her that he feels for his own mother. George, the little shit, finds it hilarious.</p><p>"Need a hand?" A snappish voice says on Joe's right and Joe jumps. He can't help but flinch whenever someone startles him from that side. His instincts don't forget how his crash happened and the damage it left behind. It's Speirs, clad in clothes so casual that he looks like a different man, someone scholarly and handsome, not quite Joe's uptight boss. Well, ex-boss. It's going to take some time to get used to living in the suburbs and not going into the business district anymore.</p><p>Speirs sounds commanding as ever, but there's a foreign glint of pleading in his eyes, and when Joe looks over at their guests, he understands why. Lip chose to sit on a bench close enough to the grill to listen to George's anecdotes, which coincidentally put him at the girlfriends' half of the table, while all the other boys are playing some naughty card game on the other end with Bill laughing like a horse in the middle. Although he can see how painfully awkward it would be if Speirs tried to mingle with either group, Joe hesitates. He has nothing against the guy, but he's not his first choice of company. Not his second either. The main reason he has been invited to the party at all is because Lip is one of George's best pals and Speirs is, apparently, a decent enough boyfriend to still be around after two years.</p><p>But a helping hand is a helping hand, so Joe nods, gestures at the linden tree he was dreading to lift into its place, and they begin working together in silence. It's companionable for the first time since they have known each other. Perhaps it's the fact that Joe isn't his subordinate anymore or their shared distaste for small talk, but Speirs' shoulders gradually relax. They settle the trees Joe was determined to plant that day despite the party, and soon enough, they are walking along the perimeter of the property discussing ideas and tips for various home improvement projects. They are checking the front porch so that Joe can explain what kind of renovations they planned with George when Lip sticks his head out the front door.</p><p>"Ah, there you are." He sighs. If Joe's not mistaken, there's some relief in it. As if he half-expected Speirs to either leave or hide away in a dark corner, brooding. "Ron, we talked about this. They can't get to know you if you don't give them a chance."</p><p>Joe's pretty sure Speirs has no desire to give such a thing, and Speirs' expression certainly says it so as well. Lip purses his lips. "You're all sweaty now."</p><p>"You don't mind it." Speirs replies, as if that's all that matters to him. He seems unrepentant, but stares at Lip like a puppy who knows if he waits long enough in silence, he'll be forgiven. Sure enough, it only takes five seconds before Lip folds and the clouds disappear from his face. He shakes his head with a lopsided smile.</p><p>"Lunch is ready."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Joe ducks into the bedroom to change out of his filthy clothes and switch his limb sock to a dry one because his stump gets so uncomfortable sweating in the socket all day that he needs a few minutes to let it breathe. He's lying on the dark grey coverlet, stripped down to his boxers and basking in the sensation of cool air against his damp skin when George slips inside and throws himself down next to him. The mattress bounces, then everything stills and a drowsy afternoon serenity lights up the room. They stare up at the ceiling in silence.</p><p>"Having fun?" George asks through a breathy laugh when the shadows of their newly planted trees sway in the orange sunshine. He grabs Joe's hand and holds it up to look at the blisters on the pads of his palm, picking at a splinter Joe hasn't removed from his skin yet.</p><p>"Shit." Joe curses. He tries to yank his arm away, but George sits up, traps it between his knees and squeezes the irritating piece of wood out. The pain makes Joe testy. "You should have used a needle." </p><p>"You will live." George smiles and kisses the reddened skin where Joe has been developing calluses ever since they bought the godforsaken place. They are two months in and the work is nowhere near complete.</p><p>Joe frees his arm, glaring daggers. “How the hell did you talk me into this?”</p><p>"The party or the trees?"</p><p>"The house."</p><p>George lowers his eyelids and leans down, elbows bracketing Joe's head. His hair is lit by a golden halo of light, but he smirks like the devil's best temptation and has no illusion of innocence left. "I'm a master of persuasion, baby."</p><p>Joe reaches up with both of his hands and twines their fingers together. "More like my insufferable husband."</p><p>"That too."</p><p>Despite his irritation, Joe kisses back when George presses their mouths together. George's lips are sticky and sweet, darting down and away for short little pecks until Joe growls and rolls them over to pin him to the mattress for a proper kiss. George's body trembles from laughter. He runs his soft palms up and down from Joe's waist to the juncture of his neck and they breathe each other's exhales because it feels so good to melt and fuse together in the sweltering heat that they can't seem to let go for air. George's skin smells like sunscreen and smoke and sweat and summer, like joy, and Joe keeps his eyes closed while he takes it in, all the scents and flavors he would get drunk on if he could. He nips George's cheek.</p><p>"Where is it?"</p><p>George rubs his prickly stubble against Joe's clean-shaven face, feigning confusion. "What?"</p><p>"Whatever you drank." Joe takes another kiss, a deeper one, and tastes citrus again, light and fresh and nostalgia-sweet. "Georgie."</p><p><i>"What?"</i> George has the audacity to grin before he pushes Joe off and springs out of bed. He picks a bottle of Joe's favorite summer drink off the floor, where he must have hid it after coming in.</p><p>"Give me my goddamn lemonade, you tease!" Joe lunges for him, but he skips away, running for the door in his dorky apron with an ear-splitting smile.</p><p>"Come get it if you want!" He replies and rushes out to join their friends outside.</p><p>Joe smiles as featherlight contentment fills the crevices in his chest. He reaches into the bedside table and puts his ring back on.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>~End~</em>
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